The Arrangement
by UncannyAnnie
Summary: Cato is the victor of the 73rd Hunger Games, and Clove is the daughter of the previous victor, Brutus. What happens when the two are forced into a love story together? And a marriage? Clato. Maybe a little OCC if I make mistakes, but I'm trying to keep it in character. Both POV's.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had this idea for a story, and I just couldn't not start writing it. Keep in mind that I'm writing this while on Easter Break, and therefore writing it on my iPhone. If there are any mistakes or typos, Lennon, I know you're going to rub it in my face. Please do. This story won't be too long, and I most likely won't be updating it as much as my main story, All This Time, unless people like this one more.**

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**Chapter 1**

_Clove's POV_

I walk through my front door, flinging my jacket over the bench next to our jacket closet, and pulling off my boots. I'm exhausted. Training today was intense- I had just hit the age of 16, and that's when you're supposed to start volunteering, so they make us work twice as hard. Some of us even take out tesserae, not because we need it, but because it means our name will be entered that many more times. I'm unsure about wether or not I want to do that. On the good side, yes, your name is put in more that usual, but on the downside, what if your name gets drawn, and somebody else volunteers to take your place? It's not like you can stop them. I'm lost in my thoughts as I walk upstairs, and into my bathroom to get a quick shower. The mirror over the sink shows a small, raven haired girl with a fair completion, freckles splayed across her face. Her hair isn't straight, but it isn't curly either. It's stuck in the middle between the two, and measures to somewhere just before her elbows. The most prominent thing about the girl is her piercing, emerald green eyes. I sigh- for some reason I seemed to have the belief that after I turned 16, I would look older, more womanly. That doesn't seem to be the case. It doesn't bother me too much, though, because everybody around District 2 knows me as the girl with the knives, and even by looking at me I have a self-assured composure, dangerous, sadistic, even. That's how I like it. I won't be overlooked because of my size. I climb into the shower, the warm water relaxing me, and let my thoughts drift yet again. I think I'm going to volunteer for the next Hunger Games, but I'll have to speak with my father first. My father's name is Brutus, and he's a victor. I don't think he wants me to volunteer, but he knew I would anyway. He's very supportive of it, and told me that whenever I decided I was ready, I would go to him first so that he could tell me what the games were like for him, and give me some tips. This year may be a bit harder, though, because he has to go on the victory tour as a mentor soon. The last Hunger Games, 73rd, has a victor from none other than District 2. His name is Cato, and he's a year older than me- 17. And he's huge. He could've won using his brute force alone, but that combined with his impressive sword abilities gave him the crown. The Capitol loves him- he gave them a show. A good show, even. He would always torture his victims, and let them think they were going to be able to escape him, before mercilessly killing them. I want to say that if it were me in his position I would have been kinder, but that's a lie. Although I don't think I'd go as far as he had, I would be brutal. The victory tour is in a week, and so my fathers stupid prep team will be here any day. This makes it difficult to find time to tell my father I want to enter the games, but there's no doubt in my mind that next year is the year I want to enter them. It's my only chance. If I can't go next year, then after that is the Quarter Quell, and I would be a fool if I wanted to enter that. Most people think that the Quarter Quell would be a great honour to win, which is why all the competitors who volunteer are some of the best. That, combined with whatever cruel twist they put to the games would be nothing but a death sentence for me. The year after that I would be 18, and we're told at the training centre not to enter then, that we have to give the 16 and 17 year olds a chance. That age is when we are 'at our best'. If I did enter then, I would be a disgrace for not following rules, and nobody would care if I died. If I won, people wouldn't be as happy about it. And so all I have is this year, and I intend to use this opportunity. All I have is a week to tell my dad, before he leaves for the victory tour. I don't come with him- I'm allowed to, but I choose not to. I don't like all those prying eyes who tell me I look 'just like my father' and that 'I am a vision'. Thanks, but no thanks. I made that mistake once, and it's not happening again. My mother died during childbirth, and so when he leaves I normally stay with my friend Lorna. I snap back into attention when I notice the water has gone cold. I dry off with a towel, run it through my hair quickly, walk into my room, and open my closet door. I pull on a charcoal black tank top and jean shorts and dry my hair quickly. The doorbell rings, and I flit down the stairs toward it, met with the face of non other than Lorna. "Hey Clover, wanna do some target practice?" She asks with a gleam in her eye, and I know she means our made up game. We take a whole bunch of knives from the training centre, hide in a tree, and throw them at unsuspecting victims. We don't actually hit them, but we throw them close enough to scare the person shitless. I'm about to say yes, but my fathers voice replies for me.

"Maybe another time, Lorna, Clove has some business to attend to first." I snap my head towards him, a fierce scowl in place, but it quickly fades as I see who's standing next to him. Cato. Why is he here? Doesn't he have a family to go be with, or a girlfriend to bother? My look of surprise quickly vanishes, and a glare regains its position on my face. Who the fuck does he think he is, waltzing in here and taking time from me and my friend, when if I enter the games next year I may never see her again? He has no right. But I don't say any of this, because I know my father must have a reason, so I just mouth sorry to Lorna, and walk back inside, plopping down on the couch.

"Clove, this is Cato. Cato, my daughter, Clove." My dad gestures towards both of us, as if he's introducing us to each other.

"I know who he is. Why the fuck is he in our house?" I scowl at my father, and Cato seems to laugh at me. Laugh. At me. I don't like this. Not one bit.

"Cloverfield..." My father warns me.

"Don't you Clover me. I wasn't planning to spend my afternoon with you and some male stripper," I start, gesturing to the now topless Cato, "nor do I want to. I was looking forward to spending my day with Lorna. So just tell me what you want from me this time and let me leave."

"You are to marry Cato." He states bluntly.

"What the fuck do you mean, marry Cato?" I ask in a statistic voice, ready to kill something. Or someone.

"The Capitol wants to use Cato as, in lack of better terms, exactly what you said. A male stripper." My dad glares at me when I cut him off with _Looks like he'd be good at it_. "The only way to prevent this is to have him married. Nobody wants to sleep with a married victor, for some reason. All the Capitol people would rather watch the love story than ruin it. But no ordinary girl will do. The president will just wave it aside. That's where you come in. The Capitol won't be able to resist it. The daughter of a victor, and a victor. But not just any daughter. His mentors daughter. That's much more enticing than a male prostitute. There's plenty of those. What the Capitol craves is entertainment. They want a show. And so that's what we're going to give them. You will have a secret romance that has been going on ever since Cato got back. You met when we helped Cato move in to his new house. You make up the rest between each other. I will play the disagreeing father- you are my baby girl, and I order you not to see him. The Capitol will love it. _Forbidden love. _You will start by being seen in public with each other, but act secretive about it. Everybody has to believe it. Even Lorna, Clove. You will tell nobody the truth but me. This is very dangerous. I suspect that the Capitol will be monitoring our district when they catch wind of this. Maybe even going so far as putting cameras in our homes. Be aware of _everything_. Is this all clear?"

"Yes." I say, processing the information.

"Good. Now, you two are to go out somewhere in public now, be seen together. Talk about things. Figure out your love story. Go for ice cream. I don't care, just go." Dad declares, and then trudges up the stairs towards his bedroom.

"Shall we?" Cato asks, extending out his arm for me to hold onto.

"Don't be cocky." I tell him, and take his arm as he chuckles and walks out the door.

* * *

We walk down the road, hand in hand, toward the ice cream parlour, as my dad had suggested. Already we're receiving sidelong glances from people, and some are even gaping at us openly. This is not going to be fun. After a while of walking, I feel like we're being followed. I turn around casually to see two Capitol tourists trying- and failing -to act casual. Cato seems to know what I'm looking at, because he says, "Smile and turn around, and look at me." I do as he says, and look at him adoringly, but in my head I feel like throwing up. Cato then leans down and whispers in my ear, "Good. Now, I'm going to pull you around to the corner of the house, and go to press up against you as if I were to kiss you. As soon as we're out of sight we run. When I stop talking, start laughing." He moves his head back, and I start to laugh sweetly at him, as he tugs on my hand and pulls me around the corner. His hands press me up against the house and we breathe heavily, foreheads pressed together. I stare at him, suddenly breathless, unsure of what to do other than stare at him. He seems to feel the same way, because he doesn't move either. Click! Flash! I snap away from Cato, my mouth forming an 'o' as I see the perky Capitol people smiling at us broadly.

"This is so sweet!" The one dressed in pink feathers exclaims, clasping her hands together in contentment.

"I think I recognize you though, dearie. Where do I know you from? I haven't seen you in a while, but I just know I've seen you somewhere!"

I stick out my hand to her as a form of introduction, not sure what to do. I glance at Cato questioningly and he just shrugs and nods at me. "I'm Clove. You may recognize me as Brutus' daughter. I went on a victory tour with him once." A look of recognition spreads across both of their faces. Then the green one speaks up.

"What are you doing out here with Cato then," he asks, perplexed.

"Well, you see," I start, but then glance over my shoulder to see my father motioning for me to run. He's saving us. "Cato, shit, my dad," I say, and point to where he's walking towards the paint store. I can see the laugh Cato is trying to hold back at how fake this all is, but he keeps his composure.

"We have to go," he tells them urgently, glancing back at dad to insure they know the reason we're departing. Hopefully this will get back to the Capitol. "It was nice meeting you. Please don't tell anybody." He says, and with that, he grabs my hand and we run. There, now it will get back to the Capitol. Capitol citizens are terrible at keeping secrets. The rest of the day we sit at the ice cream parlour, drinking milkshakes and cracking jokes, and discussing our 'love story'. In the end, this is what we come up with.

_It was Monday, and it was raining. Pouring rain. He was walking down the road, but suddenly stopped in the middle, not going anywhere. Her dad came out to talk to him, recognizing him immediately. She was on her way back from training with her friends. Her dad showed him his house, and he thanked her dad, about to go inside out of the rain, when he heard her. She was laughing, and waving goodbye to her friends, who were jumping around in the puddles, trying to splash her with water. She was soaking wet, so wet that her clothes stuck to her and were dripping water, her hair plastered to her face. He had never seen anything as beautiful as her. When she saw her dad, she walked towards him, but stopped in her tracks. He was staring at her, a look of awe on his face, and was drenched. Just like her, his clothes stuck to him, defining his toned chest. She knew who he was, but she couldn't stop staring. He was perfect. She had never seen anybody as handsome as him._

_Her dad warned her about him, he was trouble, and she was to stay away. But she couldn't help herself. They met in secret, each night they would creep off into the dark and hide somewhere to be together, and he would climb into her window and hold her until she fell asleep. But he never stayed. He couldn't stay. He was still there every night though, and promised her that he would be until she didn't want him anymore. She promised him that she would always want him. It soon dawned on them that they wanted each other, and nobody else, but how was that going to happen if what they had together was in hiding? You can't live a hidden life. It can't always be like this. So they started to go out in public together, but never kissed or did anything to show people that they were together. They still didn't know how to tell her dad. Or anybody. It didn't matter, though, because they had each other. So they stayed in hiding, kept it secret. But one day, they're going to tell everybody. At that day is going to come soon, very soon, because they are both so tired of hiding, and a bump in the road has popped up, forcing them to make a choice. It's now, or never._

She can see Cato watching her write down the words in her small, neat print, and she looks up at him. Cato came up with most of the story, anyway. She hadn't known he was such a romantic. As if reading her thoughts, he says, "There are plenty of things you don't know about me."

"Like what?" She challenges.

"I have a sister. She's 8 years old, her name is Rose, and I love her more than anything in the world. My mother's name is Enobaria. She was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games when she was my age, but later found out that she was pregnant with me. So she didn't enter, and wasn't chosen, and went on to get a job so she could buy a place for us to move into eventually. She knew her parents, although supportive, didn't want to have to raise another child. My father wanted nothing to do with me when he found out, and left her. I've never met him. My mother got remarried to my now step dad Crucis. When I was 9 they had Rose. At first, like any other kid would be at 9, I was afraid they were trying to replace me. But when I got used to it, Rose became my everything, and I would do anything to protect her."

"Oh." I say, dumbfounded that he had trusted me enough to tell me all of this. I didn't want to ruin the moment, though, and so I reluctantly started telling him about myself. "I've never met my mother. It was always me and my dad. She died during childbirth. I think that at first my dad blamed me for her death, which is partly true because I am the reason she's dead, so for the first two years of my life I was always with a nanny. I was born after my dad had won, now mind you, so he had enough money to keep me a fair distance away. He never got rid of me, though. Never put me up for adoption. I think it's because I was the only thing of her that he had had left. So it was when I had hit the age of two that my father had cancelled the nanny services. The Capitol was nagging on him, telling him that if he wasn't even going to look at his own daughter in two years, then she was going to be put up for adoption. He didn't want me to go, and so he took me, and he learned to get over his emotions and realize that there was nothing he could do. My mother was dead, and there was no getting her back. She had given him me, and that he would just be making things worse than they are now if he got rid of me too. Then he would have nothing. I think he still misses her, though. You never really forget these things. He still has his days where he takes a bottle of liquor and hides away from the world in his room. I learned long ago there was no way to stop this from happening. But life is good, and me and my dad are close. Closer then most families now days. I tell him everything, and he tells me everything."

Cato just states at me in shock, and then divulges even further into his past and present life. I do too. We sit in the small booth in the back of the parlour for hours, just talking. He says that the reasons he's telling me all these things are because if this is going to be believable we need to know all these things about each other, and have plans in place in case something happens, so we both know what to do, but in reality I know it's nice to just tell people everything, how you feel about things and what you think, and not have them judge you. Just listen. Hell, I'm telling him things I haven't even told my dad. I tell him about how I met Lorna in training, and we clicked instantly. Those endless hours of making fun of the 12 year olds cautiousness around weapons, about our game target practice, about all of our sleepovers and those nights when we cried ourselves to sleep with each other because life just wasn't fair. In return, he tells me about his best friend Marvel, and how they used to steal apples and beads from the merchants just for the thrill, about how they would playfully tease each other about every little thing they did wrong, and about how he had only ever seen Marvel cry once, when his girlfriend Glimmer had told him that he just wasn't good enough for her. After we say everything we can think of we just sit there and process what we'd learned about one another. In five minutes, though, the worker comes back to tell us it's closing time, and that we have to leave. His eyes bulge out of his head when he sees who it is in the booth. I suppose he figured it was just another couple out for ice cream, and didn't pay close attention. I can tell by the look on his face that he wishes he had now.

"Well, thank-you for telling us. C'mon Cato, lets go for a walk before my dad sets out to find me." I screw up my face at the thought of my dad walking in on one of our conversations. That would be awkward.

"Okay!" Cato says, and jumps up, dragging my hand along towards the door.

"God, you're so childish," I laugh as the bell dings on the doorframe.

"I have an eight year old sister. Of course I'm childish." He states seriously, causing me to laugh again.

"Woah there, Cato's breakin' out the moves!" I stop laughing and turn around to locate the voice.

"Jesus Marv, that makes it sound like I'm playing one of those gay dance games," Cato chuckles, as Marvel makes his way towards us.

"And who may this pretty lady be?" He asks, quirking his eyebrow.

"This pretty lady doesn't like being called a lady, so I think Marvel better stop before he finds himself castrated in the morning." I say sweetly at him.

"How does she know my name! And I don't know hers! Cato," he whines childishly.

"I'm Clove," I tell him, extending out my hand.

"Well hello, Clove. I would tell you my name, but you seem to already know it." He pouts playfully, and between fake coughs says stalker. I just laugh.

"Clover, there you are! I've been looking for you forever," I hear, and turn to see Lorna prancing up to my side.

"Sorry Lornie, Cato stole me away," I say, trying not to laugh at how cheesy I sound. I share a look with Cato to see if he's having the same trouble I am at holding in his laughter, but as soon as we make eye contact, we burst into obnoxiously loud guffaws.

"They're perfect for each other, same odd sense of humour," states Marvel, looking at us as we try to regain composure. I wish Lorna had the same casual approach to this new information.

_"What!? You and Cato!? Ohmygod, how long has this been going on!? Tell me EVERYTHING!"_ She squeals, and I sigh.

"Neither of you are allowed to tell my father, OK?" I inform them, sticking to our instructions like glue. Although I normally wouldn't, after hearing all about Cato's life, I feel like I need to help him, protect him. Nobody can know the truth. After making them promise not to tell my dad, not that it matters, anyway, the four of us part ways and I head back home, not excited in the least for tomorrow, when my dads prep team is going to be there.

trouble I am at holding in his laughter, but as soon as we make eye contact, we burst into obnoxiously loud guffaws.

"They're perfect for each other, same odd sense of humour," states Marvel, looking at us as we try to regain composure. I wish Lorna had the same casual approach to this new information.

_"What!? You and Cato!? Ohmygod, how long has this been going on!? Tell me EVERYTHING!"_ She squeals, and I sigh.

"Neither of you are allowed to tell my father, OK?" I inform them, sticking to our instructions like glue. Although I normally wouldn't, after hearing all about Cato's life, I feel like I need to help him, protect him. Nobody can know the truth. After making them promise not to tell my dad, not that it matters, anyway, the four of us part ways and I head back home, not excited in the least for tomorrow, when my dads prep team is going to be there.


	2. Chapter 2

**A\N: Wow! Everybody seems to love this story! Well, thanks for that vote of confidence! My stories may be a little bit sad nowadays because I'm depressed some, so I'm sorry if they upset you. I'll try to make this one exciting, though! Also, I'm writing this on my phone again. I don't have any excuses this time, just that I'm writing it secretly while I'm supposed to be doing a school project... Shh. I'm just addicted to writing these though. I get lost in them, and I paint up the story in my mind. I forget I'm even writing it, really. This is just so you can all enjoy my brilliance! Haha, no, nice try Madge, right? Oh well. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

_Clove's POV_

When I get home, my father is sitting there, waiting anxiously for me. At first I don't understand, but then he moves to reveal a slightly annoyed looking Peacekeeper. Well, slightly is the wrong word. Severely is more like it. That's besides the point though. Why is there a Peacekeeper in my house? I look to my father, but he doesn't say anything, just motions for me to follow the Peacekeeper and mutters, "I never should have agreed to this," while sipping his flask. I just sigh and follow the now walking Peacekeeper into the study room in our house that nobody ever uses. As soon as I enter, he pulls the door shut, leaving me trapped inside with the cold old man sitting in my father's desk chair. President Snow. "How nice of you to join me, Clove, please take a seat," he sneers, and I refrain myself from commenting that he may have stayed in the freezer a little too long.

"Please, it's all my pleasure. It's not every day the president of Panem comes to visit you in your very own home. You must have a good reason," I prompt, not wanting to delay the unavoidable.

"Yes, well, rumour has it that you and have been spending a fair amount of time together lately. A couple Capitol spies of mine said they had seen you, even talked to you, and you couldn't keep your _hands off of each other_. This is the first I've heard of it. Care to enlighten me? Because I had had some very nice plans for Cato before you waltzed along into his life." Capitol spies? Oh, that's cool. I didn't know they had spies! Shit, focus, Clove.

"I didn't just waltz into his life, President Snow, sir. I've been a part of it for a while now. Just quietly, and unnoticeably." I say cautiously, deciding to stick to our back story.

"Is that so? Because most things don't go unnoticed by me, including your little conversation today." He says, and I snap my head towards him, thinking about the conversation my dad, Cato and I had this morning about Cato and mines fake relationship. Snow couldn't know that. Could he?

"Pardon?" I ask, shocked, searching his face.

"I said, your little conversation today didn't go unnoticed by me." He repeats, and what I see in his face almost causes me to laugh out loud I'm so relived. He's bluffing. He's a good bluff, too, but he's bluffing. I've learned to read people at a young age, because I used to do it all the time with my nannies when I'd tried to ask them why my daddy didn't want to see me. Most people wouldn't pick up on his bluff, but I do. His lack of details as to what exactly the conversation was about, just that it was earlier today because today is the day we had started being seen together. And, as I was staring directly at him while he said it, his cheek had twitched slightly, indicating a lie. It must be because he's not used to people looking at him so directly. I keep my composure even though I want to scream with joy and relief, and just sigh inwardly. I do need to warn Cato about this immediately though. He may not be as lucky as I just was, and we can't have our story's not matching up when Snow goes to visit him later, because I know he will.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that was just a joke, sir. He had scared the shit out of me by jumping me while I was walking down town, so I'd thought I'd get him back. I'm not _actually_ pregnant. My dad would _kill_ me!" I lie easily, and laugh. Snow seems startled for a moment before laughing along with me. _Didn't see that one coming, did you, you little fucker?_ I think internally, which only fuels my laughter.

"Is there anything else you needed, President? I was just about to go over to Cato's for dinner after I change, but I'm sure my dad can get you anything you need before returning to the Capitol. Like I said before, it's not every day the president of Panem comes to visit you!" I lie again, casually making up an excuse to go over to Cato's house to warn him before Snow can beat me.

"Well, I was planning on going over to Cato's house after this to congratulate him before the victory tour, something that happens every year, now mind you, it's just not televised," he says, and I roll my eyes internally at his lie. Like I'm supposed to believe that. The Capitol televises _everything_, because they have nothing better to do with themselves than watch our lives. He is a quick thinker, though. I'll give him that. "But I wouldn't want to intrude on your dinner. I don't suppose it's okay for me to wait here until you're done?" He asks, and I almost laugh at him. It's not like I can say no.

"Of course you can! I'm sure you know your way around, as you've built all these homes, but if not, my dad can show you! You'll have to excuse me now, if that's okay. I'm already late." And with that, I flit out of the room. I think that what I'm wearing is fine, but I told Snow that I had come home to change, so I quickly pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a dressy floral shirt. It's when I'm running down the stairs that my father catches my arm, Snow sitting behind him, watching us intently, as if he can some how seek out the lie that he was told.

"Where're you going, Clove?" He asks me, but I can tell it's not for show by the look in his eyes, and that he really does want to know where I'm going. Normally he just lets me leave, but I figure he must be a little more antsy because President Snow is sitting casually behind him in our living room.

"I told you already, I'm going to Cato's for dinner," I say exasperatingly.

"Then why are you all dressed up, just for dinner?" He asks, playing along, and I sigh and stick out my tongue.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say stubbornly and walk across the room to the door without another word, and I hear him shout behind me, "I still don't like this! Don't you dare let him con you into bed! And no monkey business! I've got my eyes on you!" I'm still laughing and facing the house when I run smack dab into Cato on the street.

"Hey," I laugh, "I didn't see you there. Wasn't I supposed to come over to your place for dinner?" I ask pointedly, staring at the Capitol car parked outside my house. Cato seems to catch on, because he goes along with it.

"Yeah, I was just coming to get you. You were running late, I was worried," he tells me, and I just smile at him. Then he leans over and whispers in my ear.

"They've got cameras in your house. Most likely mine too. They made me watch your interaction with Snow- they thought you were going to cave and admit that the relationship was a fake, and I guess they wanted to rub it in my face. Nowhere is safe now," he tells me, and then pulls back to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"Awe, I know. I'd like to meet your friends too. Maybe we could go to Marvel's house another time?" I ask, signalling that his friends house may be a safe place to talk.

"That's a good idea. We could go to your friend Lorna's house, too," he tells me, and I just smile and nod at him. It's a tight line we're walking, saying this all out loud, but it makes it less suspicious. "Let's get going now. I want you to see how much of an amazing cook I am," he laughs, and I join in.

"Please, I'm no better. I practically live on microwaveable meals."

"I hate to admit it, but you're probably right. I wouldn't eat anything you make. You might confuse salt with rat poisoning."

"Hey!" I exclaim, shoving his shoulder, "the best thing you've ever made was probably overcooked Kraft Dinner."

"Oh really? And how would you know that?"

"Because that's the best thing I've ever made," I say, laughing, and he joins in.

"That's so sad," he says, steering me down the road and away from his house.

"Hey, where're we going?"

"To get takeout. I'm afraid I won't be able to live up to the brilliance of your mushy Kraft Dinner."

* * *

The rest of the night we sit down in some corner booth and eat seafood from District 4, while we talk and laugh about things as we feel people's eyes watching us intently. The night goes great, until as we leave, a high, nasally voice wails out.

"_Cato_? Is that _you_?" I go to spin around and see who's talking, but Cato's arm around me has suddenly gone rock solid, locking me in place.

"Keep walking," Cato says urgently, and pulls me out into the cold night as quickly as possible, while the bells above the door chime.

"Cato, _wait_, where are you going? Do you even _hear_ me? _Catoooooo_," the voice whines.

"Can you please fuck off, Glimmer," Cato says suddenly, spinning around so quickly with me in his arms that I feel dizzy. "I'm trying to have a nice night with my girlfriend, if you don't mind, so I don't need all your crazy stalker shit right now."

"Girlfriend?" Glimmer asks, sounding defeated, until she looks at me and scoffs. "Please, that pipsqueak? I bet she isn't even half as good in bed as I was." I look at Glimmer, sizing her up. She's tall, leggy, blonde, and tan. And annoying. _Really_ annoying. But apparently Cato's slept with her, and for some reason, this infuriates me.

"Have you heard about what I can do with knives?" I ask her innocently, and when she nods, I speak before she can. "Good. Because if you ever want to 'sleep with' somebody again, I suggest you shut up before I shove one of my pretty little knives up your vagina." At this she gapes at me openly, most likely for my crudeness, and Cato laughs heartily, pulling me closer to him.

"No Glimmer," he starts, responding to her earlier question about me in bed, "as you can see, this one's a firecracker."

* * *

We walk back to Cato's house, hand in hand, as we chat about everything and nothing. When we get inside, he pulls me over to the couch with him, and turns on the TV. I try to stay awake, but after eating I always get sleepy, and so I drift asleep, leaning against Cato as the television drones on about District 3's new music chip. When I wake, it's because of deep voices near me talking back and forth, and Cato's chest moving as he speaks. I open my eyes and take in my surroundings, wondering who he's talking to. I find myself tangled up on the corner of the couch with Cato, my arms wrapped around his torso, leaning my head against his chest, and sitting so close to him that I may as well be sitting _on_ him. The intimacy of the position is too much for me, and so I untangle myself from him, yawning, as I see Snow watching me with interest while he speaks to Cato. The room goes silent as they realize I'm awake.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep. I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear. I have to get home now before my dad kills me," I say, acting innocent again.

"Or me," Cato laughs, as he gets up and tells Snow that he'll be back in a second- he's just walking me to the door. We walk the short distance to the door, and say our goodbyes. Just as I'm about to leave, Cato surprises me by pulling me in and kissing me tenderly. I want to do it again, but yet slap him at the same time, so instead of choosing in fear I may slap him across the face with Snow in his living room, I quickly turn around and walk out the door to leave, but not before I hear his deep voice announce behind me, "I've wanted to do that all night."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- Sorry- I lied. I've decided to do this in mostly Clove's POV, because I'm really just too lazy to try and imagine the story in Cato's POV. There ****_will_**** be some parts with his POV though… Maybe. I also hope you don't get mad that I used the same prep team! I felt bad leaving them out of the story. I'll use different designers, although Portia and Cinna will still be incorporated into the story. Finally, I've gotten a couple PMs saying that this story is too "Middle School" and I need to spice things up a bit. I will, I promise, but here's two things you should always expect when reading my fics: They will never, ever, ****_ever _****have sex, and if, for some reason, they do, I will not be describing it. Also, all articles of clothing stay on. This ****_is _****a T rated fiction, so if you're looking for smut, look elsewhere.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Clove's POV_

When I wake up the next morning- or should I say afternoon, as it's one in the day already- to the sound of my father pounding on my door, the only thought I have is to tell him to fuck off. But, soon I remember Snow's visit last night, and I haul myself out of bed to see what all the fuss is. This had better be good news.

"Clove! C'mere, it's working!" My father calls to me, pointing at the magazine in his hands, ecstatic like a child on Christmas. I take the magazine from him to try to figure out what he's ranting on about, and gasp. That happened quickly. On the cover is a photo of Cato and I, walking down the road holding hands, laughing at something funny one of us had said. The title reads _Newest Victor Finds _Himself_ A Girlfriend. _I know this is supposed to be good news, but to me, it feels like an invasion of privacy. I look to my father, but he's only smiling as he motions toward the coffee table, where more tabloids sit, photos of Cato and I splashed across the front page. There are all sorts of headings. _A District Two Romance, Brutus' Daughter Spotted With Cato _and more, but only one catches my eye; _Clato_. I pick up the magazine and skim through it, until I see the section on Cato and I. It mainly consists of what you would expect it to- Polls on everything and anything about us; "Do you think they'll last", "Do you _want _them to last", "Do you think her father agrees with the relationship", "Do you think they're just friends?" as well as small little bits of whatever information they could dig up on us, and as many photos of us together as they could get. Just as I'm about to close it, I see a section on interviews. They interviewed whoever they could get their hands on, including Lorna, Marvel and even Glimmer. I read through every one of them.

Lorna's Interview

_Interviewer: Let's start off by telling the viewers how you know Clove and/or Cato._

_Lorna: Sure! Well, I don't really know Cato all that well, I've only met him once, but Clove has been my best friend since we were about 7!_

_Interviewer: What do you know about your best friend Clove's new relationship?_

_Lorna: Not much, honestly. I think they may have been seeing each other for a while, as Clove seemed very comfortable with him, but I only found out about it two days ago when I saw them together, and chatting with Cato's friend, Marvel. He had only just found out about them as well._

_Interviewer: Are they dating?_

_Lorna: Once again, I really don't know. Clove's a secretive person- I wouldn't be surprised if her father didn't even know. Neither of them said they were dating, but I had assumed they were at the time, and they didn't tell me they weren't. They might be._

_Interviewer: Speaking of her father, how do you think he feels about this?_

_Lorna: Oh, Clove's dead. Totally dead. I know her father wouldn't object to her seeing him, but I'd imagine Cato isn't in his good books right now. I can just imagine him shooting Cato menacing looks across the room right now. –Lorna laughs- You'd probably have to ask her father yourself, though. I may be wrong._

_Interviewer: And how do you feel about your friend's new relationship?_

_Lorna: Oh, I couldn't be happier for her. Clove is very secluded most of the time, so I'm glad she ventured out of her little bubble and got to know Cato. I think they're perfect for each other, I honestly do. I could tell by the way Cato… Executed his competition in the games that he's ruthless, and so is Clove. I can honestly see her doing the same thing as he had, and having fun doing it. She's very sadistic- in District Two everybody knows her as 'The Girl With The Knives"._

_Interviewer: Do you think what they have together will last?_

_Lorna: Well, I really hope it does, but that's for them to know and us to find out. I don't know much about anything that's going on between them now- I haven't had a chance to talk about it with Clove yet._

The interviewer then thanks her for her time, and I skip to the next one.

Marvel's Interview

_Interviewer: Let's start off by telling the viewers how you know Cato and/or Clove.  
Marvel: I don't know Clove 'cept for the one time I met her, but I'm Cato's best friend, and have been for about 5 years._

_Interviewer: What do you know about Cato's relationship with Clove?_

_Marvel: Well, I definitely think they're dating, though Cato hasn't said anything about it to me. I only saw them together once and that's how I found out about them, and shortly after Clove's friend Lorna appeared. It was news to her as well. I know Cato's been crushing on her for a while now, though. As soon as he got back fro the games, he had me come with him while his old mentor, Brutus, also Clove's father, showed him around the Victor's Village. When we were leaving, Clove appeared all agitated at her father for not being home, and also, from the snarky comments and attitude she was giving him, we found out that her dad had said no to her about something, and she was pissed about it. That night she was all Cato could talk about, and he kept asking me questions about her, as if I would know something he didn't. –Marvel chuckles-_

Crushing on me? Talking about me with Marvel? No, that's not right. Cato must have told him to say that. But… I do remember that day. I was mad at my father for him telling me that I wasn't allowed to sleep over at Lorna's, and that we had to have a 'family night'. Cato must just have a good memory, I decide. It wasn't true. He doesn't like me like that. I continue to read the interview.

_Interviewer: Did he ever ask her out on a date?_

_Marvel: Well, I figure so, yeah, but one day he just stopped talking about her completely. Whenever I asked about her he just told me to "Mind my own damn business". Then I saw them out together that day._

_Interviewer: Are you happy for your friend?_

_Marvel: Yeah, I am. I'm happy he's finally grown a pear and perused her. I was afraid he never would. I think she's perfect for him, though. Even though she's so small he'd probably crush her, she's feisty. Sure, the other day I saw her up in the trees with her friend and they were chucking knives down next to people on the streets, scaring them shitless and laughing their heads off about it. It was mostly Clove doing it, though, and I have to say- damn, she's got good aim. Cato needs a girl like her- she's tough. Cato talks so much smack and arrogant bullshit, but she seems to know how to see through it all._

_Interviewer: Well, thank you for your time, Marvel._

Glimmer's Interview

_Interviewer: Let's start off by telling the viewers how you know Clove and/or Cato._

_Glimmer: I don't know Clove. I know Cato through having dated him a while before he entered the games- I'm his ex girlfriend. He broke it off with me shortly after deciding he wanted to volunteer._

_Interviewer: My condolences, then. Having you be Cato's ex, I don't suppose you see him much anymore, do you?_

_Glimmer: No, I don't, but I did run into him last night while he was on a date with his new girlfriend._

I can hear Glimmer sneering the last part.

_Interviewer: And by girlfriend, you mean Clove?_

_Glimmer: Yes._

_Interviewer: And did Cato call her his girlfriend?_

_Glimmer: Yes._

_Interviewer: Are you happy for Cato?_

_Glimmer: No. I personally think he could do better. I was a much better girlfriend then she'll ever be. I don't think she'll be good enough for him, and soon enough he'll see that, and come back to me where he belongs. She's so small, too. I bet she isn't even good in bed._

I can almost see the interviewers shocked face as Glimmer tells him this.

_Interviewer: And did you voice your opinions to them?_

_Glimmer: Yes._

_Interviewer: Even about her in bed?_

_Glimmer: Yes._

_Interviewer: And what was their reaction?_

_Glimmer: Well, Cato looked a little surprised I'd say that in front of his new bitch, but then she threatened to shove one of her, and I quote, "Pretty little knives up my vagina so I'd never be able to sleep with anybody again"._

_Interviewer: Well… That's, uh, interesting? _

Even though reading the paper you can tell he's flabbergasted. I sort of am as well. I figured she would hide the part of the conversation in which I insulted her, but perhaps not. Maybe she's the type for drama.

_Interviewer: Well, it was lovely meeting you, Glimmer. Thank you for your time!_

Just as I put down the magazine and sigh, plopping onto the couch, the doors pops open and in waltzes in my father's prep team.

"Brutus! There you are! It's lovely to see you again! Where's-" Octavia starts, but cuts off short when she sees me sitting on the couch, surrounded by the tabloids.

"There you are! Oh my gosh! Look at you, you're beautiful!" She tells me, and then starts squealing. "Is true about you and Cato!? Are you really dating!?" She asks, but the door pops open again.

"Clover, where are you? Why's there a car outside your-" Cato cuts himself off as he sees my fathers- and now my- prep team gaping at him.

"Never mind. I'll come later." He says, and leaves the house, not wanting to get involved in this and knowing that his prep team will most likely arrive soon.

"Oh. My. God. He even has a pet name for you!" Vienna coos, looking back and forth between me and the empty space Cato used to occupy.

"Stop talking about this nonsense," my father states, stomping into the room. "I don't like it, and I still don't. For all I know my daughter's not even a virgin anymore."

_"Oh my God, Dad!"_ I play along, surprised that he would bring up me having sex with Cato. I can't help but blush at the thought, but then scold myself for doing so. It's my dad's turn to look at me in surprise, as he can see the slight flush on my face. I can tell he's holding back a smirk. "Fuck off," I mutter, pushing my way past him while the prep team giggles.

* * *

3 hours later I've been buffed, polished, and covered in many capitol products, and the prep team sends me off downstairs to where my designer, Valentina is.

"Hello, Clove," she says calmly, surprisingly lacking the strong Capitol accent I've become familiar with.

"Hi."

"As you probably know, you're all over the Capitol news and tabloids because of your relationship with Cato." She informs me. "Because of this popularity, you now need a style. Most people traveling along on Victory Tours that aren't the victor do not need one, but because of the circumstances, you do. Around the Capitol you and Cato are popularly known as Clato, but individually Cato is "The Boy With The Sword" because of his… tendency to finish off his victims in the arena by beheading them with his sword. Citizens of the Capitol have also picked up on your nickname around here, "The Girl With The Knives", and have referred to you as that. Because this is what you are commonly known as, I've decided it will be your style."

"My style is knives? How does that work?" I ask quizzically, confused.

"Well, we design your clothing with the theme of a knife in mind. Whether it looks like a knife itself or relates to one, you can always trace it back to a knife, therefore giving you a theme of knives." She tells me, and she can tell I'm still confused. She laughs lightly at me. "Maybe that made more sense to me then it did to you. I'll just have to show you, then." She proceeds to cover my eyes and pull a dress that ends just above my knee over my now flawless skin. "Open your eyes." I'm standing in front of a mirror, and I gasp as I take in the sight of my dress. I know what she means by my theme is a knife now. The dress is a greyish silvery color, with different shades mixed in at some places. When the light catches it at certain angles, it shines slightly, and gives the illusion of a blade.

"This is beautiful." I say in awe, and Valentina beams at me.

"Thank you! You look beautiful as well, Clove." My father walks down the stairs then, grumbling about having to wear "A monkey suit" but stops short when he sees me.

"Well, would you look at that. You've finally become a girl," my dad jokes, but there's a touching edge to his voice. "You look a lot like your mother did…" He says quietly, and I step towards him, concern etched on my face.

"Dad?" I ask him, but he won't look up from his fixed position on the floor. I take another step towards him.

"Daddy?" I ask quietly, my chosen name for him when we're in a sentimental moment. It's that one word that causes him to break down in front of me. I hug him as he sobs into my shoulder, while our prep team and Valentina walk out of the room to give us some time alone. When my father composes himself, we walk back out into the living room, me supporting my father with his red rimmed and puffy eyes. When we enter the room, I spot Cato sitting on the couch, and I offer him a small smile as I tow my father toward a seat and get him whiskey. I know the only way he'll be able to deal with anything after having a breakdown that bad is to be drunk. Once I give him the bottle, he chugs back the whole thing. I just sit down next to him and curl up against him as he hugs me tightly. This is routine after one of his meltdowns.

"Sorry Clover."

"It's okay, Daddy." I tell him, and I can literally feel the prep team holding in their 'awes'. After my dad is drunk enough to leave the house, our prep team covers the signs of his crying with makeup, and we walk outside and toward the train. I walk up to my dad to ask him if he wants me to stay with him, and there are already photographers snapping shots of us on our way to the victory tour.

"No, Clovey," he slurs, "Go with the boy. You need to be with the boy." I nod my head and give him one more concerned look before walking back towards Cato.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, "you're probably pretty confused."

"No, your prep team filled me in. What I got from them was that your dad told you that you looked beautiful like your mother, and then when you noticed he was upset you called him 'Daddy' and he broke. They said it was 'adorable'," he laughs quietly.

"Yeah, well, that's pretty much it then," I confirm, still lost in my thoughts.

"Does that happen often?" He asks suddenly.

"Not a lot, but sometimes it happens when something occurs that triggers a nerve. It first started happening when I was four. By the time I was five I understood that the only way to make him better was to get him drunk, and let him hold onto me." I tell him, looking up at his face.

"You shouldn't have had to do that, at only five years old," he says to me, his face troubled. "You shouldn't have had to watch your dad get drunk to cope and grieve about your dead mother."

"And you shouldn't have had to grow up without a father, but you did," I say softly, because the last thing I want to do is upset him. "Life isn't fair sometimes. But if I have to say, I think we did pretty good with what we've got," I tell him, and he smiles at me.

"So do I." By now we've walked ahead of everybody else, and arrived at the train station engulfed in a swarm of paparazzi shouting questions at us. Soon a chant starts through the swarm of them, all wanting a photo of the same thing.

"Kiss, Kiss, Kiss, Kiss." Cato smirks down at me, pulling our act into place, and I laugh back at him, pulling him onto me as I press myself against the train. I mentally prepare myself, knowing that this would have to look real. It has to be _passionate._ All the sudden Cato's lips are on mine, and as I hear the clicking of cameras going crazy, I intertwine my fingers in his hair and wrap a hand around his neck as he snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me closer against his body. This continues for about five seconds before my father walks past us, not even stopping as he grabs Cato by his hair, pulling him off me and into the train along with him. I pout and cross my arms as I follow them inside, and plop down onto the couch next to Cato as my dad grumbles about sexual diseases and sulks into his room. The prep team starts laughing.

"Oh, your father is so funny, Clove," they tell me, referring to how my father had literally pried Cato off me while on live TV.

"When he's drunk," I mutter, and flick on the TV to see the video of Cato and I kissing playing, and the commenters, Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, digesting what this means.

"Well, they're definitely dating, that's for sure. And it doesn't look like the first time they've done that, either." Says Caesar, laughing.

"Yes, and notice how when they asked them to kiss, instead of a peck on the lips, it was deep and passionate? These two definitely have feelings for each other," Claudius adds.

"And it wasn't Cato who initiated the kiss, either! As you can see, he probably would have been fine with a small kiss to feed the photographers, but she laughed at him and pulled him in for a real kiss." Caesar nods, and I can't help but laugh because they sound like the teenage girls I see in training, analyzing everything a boy does and each other's first kisses to see what they mean.

"Also, Caesar, it looks like dad isn't too happy about what's been going on between them."

"Yes, it does seem that way. If I remember correctly, Clove's friend had said once in an interview her father probably wasn't happy about their relationship. By the looks of things here this isn't the first time he's pulled Cato off his daughter, either." With that they end the program, and another fashion one starts, yet again about us. They discuss how Cato looks chic and stylish, and then start to discuss my dress.

"I don't understand- it's a plain, simple, yet elegant dress, but I can't seem to understand what it symbolizes. It has to have something to do with her hobbies, maybe. They wouldn't put The Girl With The Knives in just a plain grey dress," one of them states confused, and then the other one jumps up and claps her hands.

"I've got it!" She exclaims, ecstatic. "She's The Girl With The Knives! It's a blade! The dress is a blade!" The two of them then continue to trill about the dress and how clever it is, and give their complements to Valentina, and I flick off the TV, bored. I busy myself around the train, exploring, until soon it's 7 o'clock and I'm bored out of my mind. I sit back down onto the couch I've familiarized myself all to well with for the past couple of hours, and Cato sits next to me.

"Whatcha been up to?" He asks in a bored tone, and I know he's just as tired as I am.

"I went exploring. And there's absolutely nothing to do." I inform him, and he just nods along with me.

"Wait! I have an idea!" I exclaim, and run to the liquor cabinet. When I return with two bottles in my hands, Cato's eyes widen. "Let's play a drinking game."

"What kind of game?" He asks wearily, and I chuckle at him.

"We'll play 'Never Have I Ever'. I decide, and I set a bottle in front of him on the coffee table, and one in front of me, as I sit across from him on the other side of the table. "You name something you haven't done, and if I have done it, I take a sip. If I haven't done it either, then nobody drinks anything and I say something I haven't done. You're not allowed to say anything too obvious. Got it?" I ask him, and he nods.

"I've never drunken alcohol." He tells me, and I widen my eyes at him and take a swig from my bottle.

"Are you serious?" I ask, wiping off my mouth, and he nods. "Wow, okay."

"How old were you when you first had a drink?" He asks me.

"Ten." I inform him, and his eyes widen.

"Are you serious?" He repeats me, and I nod.

"Keep in mind, I had an alcoholic for a father. I wanted to see what he thought was so good about it. He didn't care." I tell him, and he's still staring at me, so I speak.

"I've never had sex," I say, smirking at him, and nod toward his bottle. "Sip it. C'mon, don't be a wuss," I tell him when he hesitates, and he takes a sip from the bottle after my prompting.

"Agh, how do you like this shit?" He asks once he's swallows it. "It burns."

"It gets better, trust me," I say to him, shrugging as he thinks of his next question.

"I've never stolen anything," Cato says, and I take a drink again.

"Ooh, look at you, you little rebel," Cato laughs. "I take it you didn't steal something major?"

"No, I just took some shit from my dads room and hid it- wanted to see if he'd notice," I tell him.

"That doesn't count, Clove."

"I know. I just wanted to take another drink," I say, laughing, and we continue to ask each other questions, occasionally catching the other one, and play until we get drunk enough to act a little braver.

"Dance with me," Cato says, putting on upbeat music, and we flit back and forth the room holding onto each other, laughing and taking sips from the bottles we're holding. We're so wrapped up in each other that we don't even notice my father, as he stands in the corner of the door, smiling as he watches Cato dip me while I laugh, hanging onto him and threatening for him not to drop me. My dad leaves then, turning and going back to his room to give us some privacy, although it's not like we even knew he was there in the first place. When the song ends, the tension in the air around us is tight and thick, and before I know it, my lips are on his for the second time that night. He lifts me up and pushes me against the wall, my legs wrapping around his torso while we kiss each other feverishly. I take a break from kissing him to regain my breath, but he starts to suck on my neck instead, laboring my breathing. I pull his mouth back against mine, and this time his tongue finds it's entrance. Before things go any further though, we hear a loud gasp and look to the door to find my whole prep team along with Valentina and Cato's designer who I don't know the name of, staring at us. Some look shocked, and others, like Valentina, are smirking at us knowingly. I just sigh and jump down to the ground, taking Cato's hand and pulling him along with me out the door and towards my room. By the time we get there, though, our weariness outweighs the lust we feel, as we kick of our clothing and crawl into bed in our undergarments, curling up against each other, and falling asleep. Oh, the wonders of alcohol.

* * *

_Third Person POV_

"Mr. Snow, may I come in?" asks the head game maker, Seneca Crane, as he knocks on President Snow's office door. "I have something you may want to see. Regarding Cato and Clove, sir," he says, and Snows loud voice calls out from behind the door.

"Come in."

"I've installed spy cameras all around the train like you've asked, and this is what we've found," says Seneca, playing the disc on Snow's holographic projector. The tape shows Clove and Cato, all the way from their drinking game to the laying down and spooning in bed. Once it finishes, Snow looks at the blank screen quizzically. He was _certain_ that Cato and Clove had been acting, but there was no way for them to have known there were cameras on the train, so what they did was chosen to be done by themselves- it wasn't an act. Seneca, on the other hand, has a different line of thought.

"Perhaps they're just two horny teenagers who have decided to make the most of what they were given," Seneca suggests.

"Then they would've had intercourse." Snow dismisses the theory.

"Well then maybe they've decided to take the act the whole way- they don't even want their prep teams and designers to know it's fake." Seneca proposes, and Snow nods.

"That could be it."

"If that's what they're doing, then how are we going to catch them?" Seneca frets.

"Get more security on them. I want to see _every_ move they make, but don't let them know I'm watching. From there on it should be easy. They're bound to slip up sometime." Snow commands, and then smiles maliciously. _This is a dangerous game you've decided to play, _thinks Snow, _and I'm about to win it._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- I apologize for not updating, and I have no excuse. I hope you enjoy the chapter that I was somehow able to scrounge up, and I hope you all review. It was a review that actually caused me to write this, so I hope you all realize how important they actually are.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Clove's POV_

When I wake up in the morning, I'm confused. I feel myself wrapped up in strong arms, and turn to see Cato's sleeping face just inches from me. With a sharp intake of breath I slowly turn away, and lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. How the hell did he get here? I didn't have sex with him, did I? Oh god, I hope not. Slowly, the events of last night come rushing back into my mind, and I have to hold back another gasp, although I am relieved that there was no rubbing-of-the-private-parts. The last thing I want to do is wake Cato up, as I would like some time to think, and I really don't want to face him after our ludicrous drunk escapades. Come to think of it, because last night was the first time Cato had ever been drinking, he probably won't remember the events of last night. Hopefully. I need to figure out this mess I've gotten myself into. Our prep team and designers obviously think that we're in an intimate relationship together, and I decide that it's a good thing. Maybe word will get back to Snow, and he'll begin to believe the lie we've told him. That means we should keep this act up while in the train, for their case. What am I going to tell Cato, though? I don't want to show that I'm insecure about this, because I am Clove, and I _never_ allow people to see my weaknesses. Perhaps I'll do what I suppose Cato will do, and be cocky about it. I'm about to change my mind again, but I suddenly feel Cato's arm stiffen around me, and close my eyes as if I'm still sleeping. What he does next surprises me- he pulls me closer to him and tucks me into his body. I'm about to open my eyes and make some witty remark to him, until my door bursts open and my squealing flock of a prep team crowds around the bed. Now I know why he held me against him.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Flavious thrills, and Cato and I open our eyes to see them beaming above us. This seems to be when they realize Cato is in here with me.

"Oh my god, Clove, you _didn't_!" Vienna gasps, pointing between the both of us in shock. I sit up and smirk at them, while Cato chuckles.

"Didn't what?" I ask innocently, which brings on another round of vivacious laughter from Cato. He then gets up and leaves, knowing I'm going to need to be prepped, and the prep team gasps again when they realize we're both only in our underwear. For the rest of the morning I listen to them chatter out my ear with pointless stories about feather themed parties and questions about Cato and I. I just act like I can't hear the questions they're asking me, and soon enough they give up. By the time they've finished with me, it's lunchtime. I walk out of my room and into the dining cart, and sit down next to Cato. Like they say; If I'm going to hell, I may as well do this thoroughly. We chat occasionally about pointless things, but the whole time, my fathers eyes are glued to Cato, sending him such a hateful and heated glare I'm suprised the train hasn't combusted into flames. I guess it's an act for Snow. Little did I know that I guessed wrong.

"Clove, can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?" My fathers voice booms across the table, grabbing my attention as I snap my head towards my father and stop whispering in Cato's ear. It's not like we were discussing anything important- we were just plotting to put some of Flavious' purple die in his toothpaste as an experiment of such; to see if it would dye his teeth purple. He brought it upon himself really, brining purple dye onto a train with two bored teenagers. What was he going to use it for anyway?

"Of course, daddy," I replied, trying to get into the habit of calling him daddy, because the Capitol people loved it. It doesn't hurt to be a suck up- you don't get anywhere in life when the people in power dislike you. I follow my dad into another train cart, and for a while he just alternates between staring at me and the ground, resentment in his eyes. The strange thing was that it didn't seem as if he were resenting something I had done- the resentment was directed at himself.

"I'm sorry, Clover," he finally says, looking up from his fixated stare at the floor to me, "I guess this was bound to happen sometime. I just didn't think it would be this soon. The Capitol would have forced it on you anyway, sooner or later. I'm glad you're comfortable with him though- at the rate this is going, you'll have to spend the rest of your life with the boy." It takes me a moment to register what he's saying, and another to absorb it all in. The rest of my life... With Cato. Not that it's a bad thing- I do quite like Cato, although I would try to make you think otherwise -but I had always just assumed that when it came time for me to date and marry, that I would have a choice as to who I was spending the rest of my life with, and have time to fall in love with them. Life doesn't always go the way you plan for it to, though. As I'm mulling over his words for the umpteenth time, something clicks. What started this conversation? What would the Capitol have forced upon us? I can't remember doing anything with Cato that the Capitol would have forced us to do, unless my father means drinking, but that makes no sense.

"What are you talking about, daddy?" Again with this daddy word. Ugh. It makes me feel like a three-year-old, although I guess that's what the Capitol wants. That sense of innocence, and that people from the districts still have it through the horrendous thing we go through called the Hunger Games. The Capitol's people want to believe that they're not wreaking the districts beyond repair. I don't know why they'd get that sense of stability from me, though. Although my father is a victor, I've never had a hard life, and I don't think of the Hunger Games as such a bad thing. I want to be in them. I think they'd be better off having some person from an outline district- where they actually don't like the games -to act innocent, but there probably isn't anybody worthwhile there to say it. Figures- they're all just a bunch if poor hillbillies there anyway.

"We'll, you had sex with the boy, didn't you?" My father asks, abruptly pulling me from my thoughts and causing me to choke on my saliva.

"I- what? Where would you get that idea?" I asked him, still in shock.

"Clove, you must realize that nothing you do here is private. These people have no idea how to keep a secret. So, naturally, everybody knows about your 'hot make-out session' last night, as well as how you and Cato were found sleeping together in your _underwear_." My father seems upset by the fact, and I don't blame him. What man wants to talk about his daughters sex life? Not that I have one, of course, and I plan to keep it that way.

"Daddy, I didn't,-" I begin to say, but my father cuts me off.

"It's fine Clover, I understand, you teenagers have your needs, but I just want to make sure you're being safe,-" it's my turn to cut my father off now, by doing the only thing I think will end this godforsaken conversation.

"Dad, I'm a virgin," I scream at him, and suddenly the whole train goes quiet. I guess I said that louder than I intended. Cato's laugher breaks through the silence, and I take it as an escape route. I leave the train cart, and roll my eyes with a smile as I see the whole population of the train gaping at me while Cato gasps for breaths while in hysterics on the floor.

* * *

The next few days go by in a blur as we tour the other districts, twelve being my least favourite, until we finally reach the Capitol. As the Capitol citizens see the train approaching, they go berserk. People are literally banging on the train, screaming all sorts of things varying from _Fuck me Cato!_ to _I love you Clato! and_ other things that I would feel uncomfortable to even repeat. Before we get off the train, however, my father pulls me and Cato over to him. He uses the noise from the raging crowd as a cover incase anybody is listening to us, while he informs us of how the Capitol is becoming wary of our relationship, and that some of them think that our relationship will end soon because we're not overly emotional with each other. My father then proceeds to tell us that there are many people, like the one from the crowd outside, who would like to take Cato to bed with them, and it's getting back to Snow. "You're going to have to do something huge. Something to show everybody how serious you are with each other," my dad tells us, but stops suddenly when the doors swing open and the crowds begin to charge toward us, peacekeepers attempting to restrain the mob. I smile up at Cato as he puts his arm around me, but we both turn around to face my father, a silent question in both our eyes. What do we have to do? In return, looking grim, my father performs one small action. An action that causes me to nearly faint at the severity of it. My father twists his wedding band.

I have to marry Cato.


End file.
